The Art Teacher
by Unseen Prophecy
Summary: Edward Cullen is the new Music teacher in an Elementary School. He is instantly captivated by a certain painting. But even more so by the artist. AU All Human PLease R&R!
1. The Painting

**A/N: I have no Idea how I got this Idea... But It popped into my head and switched itself around... It may have been from a motorsycle going by when I was walking my dog, I remember something like that. I honestly don't know How I think of these. **

**This is really the first one that naggs me so much that I must write it in order to pay attention for my last week of school (Follow me there?)**

I honestly didn't think that I would end up at a place like this for at least a couple more years. I'd hoped not, at least until I was married-which wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

I pulled my silver Volvo into the circular drive and started the search for a parking spot in back. The parking lot was pretty big, for this was the kinda place that would need lots of workers. I finally found a spot in between a Blue mini-van and an older looking red truck.

It was a Saturday, meaning that there was little staff here. After all, this Elementary school's days are on weekdays-Monday thru Friday- so why would there be any students here?

The school was a normal white with an accasional red-brown brick wall. The front entrance way was between two beams that held a little overway at the entrance. It was a very pleseant school with well cared for lawns.

I pushed open the main entrance door and made my way towards the office. The school had paintings and posters all over the walls, no doubt by the children. The thing that caught my eye the most was a glass case. I stopped in front of the case and examined the breathtaking painting within it.

The painting was of an ocean, the tint was almost like a turquoise/blue from how the ocean reflected onto the sandy beach. There were two figures on the painting too. Two figures side by side, frozen in the action of walking on the tanish sand.

"Like that, huh?" a voice came from behind me, ripping me away from my thoughts. I swung around to see a lady with blond hair. She seemed to be in her mid-thirties, at a quick glance. I looked back at the painting before answering.

"Yes, Very much so." I smiled at it. It seemed to pull me in and keep me there. "Who is the artist?" I was also wondering how a school could afford something so beautiful, it must have expensive, but I didn't add that.

"The art teacher here. Miss Swan." the woman answered, proudness clear in her voice. She then looked horror stuck. "Oh, excuse my mannors! I'm Mrs. Bentley." She extended a hand.

"Edward Cullen." I shook her hand as I said this. Realization seemed to hit her then.

"Oh! Mr. Cullen! I believe you are our new music teacher?" I nodded. "I am the fourth grade teacher. May I point you in the direction of the secretary?"

"If you wouldn't mind." I wanted to stare at the painting beside me all day, but not then I also needed to clear out my work schedule. Mrs. Bentley started walking away to my right. I started to follow her hesitantly, but before doing so, I took a quick glance back at the painting.

**A/N: Well... I am working on the next part, this is tiny , but please watch out for the next chapter!**

**Please review!**


	2. The Artist

A/N:** Right, well I was having incredibly bad issues with my computer with this story, and couldn't get my hands on another to type it, and I _just _finally figured out where it's going, so I'll try to update as fast as my slow fan-fiction writing self can!**

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**THE ART TEACHER  
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**Chapter 2  
The Artist**

I walked down the hall a ways after coming out of the office, which was situated at the front entrance. The maddeningly ugly carpet that covered most of all of the building turned to a reddish brown tile. I passed what looked like the art room- not allowing myself to stop- and what was most definitely the gym.

The way to the music room, my new classroom, was at the end of the hallway. There was a section of wall the stopped about mid-waist there. If I took a left I could walk up the handicap ramp, but I took the curved steps to my left, then turned left. This was were the Handicap ramp met the small stairs, right in front of the door.

My classroom wasn't all that big. It was longer than it was length in width, and not really a classroom at all. It was really the stage that opened up to the gym, were concerts and plays were held. A foldaway beige carpeted wall was the only separation from the gym. Not even soundproof, I'd bet the PE teacher and I would have some fun trying to yell over each other.

There were at least five stacks –each of five- chairs pushed against the wall to the right of the entrance. A small white board on wheels that looked like a sheet of blank music paper was pushed up against the left wall. There were some old, dusty brass instruments handing on the white walls. On the far side of the room was a small stairway that snaked around to the gym. There was an old black stereo next to the whiteboard, and a door next to that.

Overall, with a couple of cabinets to make it look less gloomy, it was rather dull.

I walked over to the door and unlocked it with a set of keys that I'd acquired. This was my office. Woo… how exciting. I'd left the classroom lights off, so it was dark, but I flicked the little room's light switch on, examining the room. There was no attempt to make this room look less dull, all the bookshelves and the desk where empty (aside from the many copies of music books that filled one whole bookshelf). It looked lonely, and almost depressing. I'd have to bring in some stuff to make my office and the classroom to make it more homey, the poor kids.

I'd heard that the previous teacher –who finally stepped down into retirement- often broke into rants about his involvement in the second World War. I can't imagine myself being able to sit through a man talk about the war in a hazy voice when I was eight, so I'm glad that I am finally here to replace him.

I sat down on the rolley plastic chair and started filling in some papers.

~*~

I was bored out of my mind within a hour, I was starting to separate each tick that came from the clock in the classroom. Summer had just started, so I wasn't expecting any kids to teach anytime soon.

I heard footsteps on the tile of the hallway and the sound a keys being messed with before a door opening. I thought nothing of it at first, but it wasn't ten minutes later when I started to think differently.

It was becoming hard to think straight as the loud, happy, up-beat music came in from the classroom that was entered. I could slightly feel the bass (pronounced Base) of the song vibrate from my feet (which were flat on the ground).

I tried ignoring it at first, but that didn't last long. I felt a slight anger ride in me. The teacher wasn't even considering their co-workers! What a horrible working environment! Though, it was certainly better than the one I had at my old job. I'd much rather stand this than _them_ any day.

Finally I set down the pencil in my hand, a bit harder than necessary, and pinched the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. This was a sort of habit I'd gained over the years, when I was overwhelmed or angry. This all started around the time when my brother was born…

Well, on that good note, I stood, the chair pushed back by the back of my knees. I set my destination clearly in my mind.

_**Blowing outside my window as I look around the room**_

And it makes me so depressed to see the gloom

The Art room was in front of me, the door shut but not all the way. I knocked after a moment of standing there.

_**there's not a soul out there  
**__no one to hear my prayer_

No answer. I heard to the voice on the other end, slightly off key compared to the singers, but still quite beautiful in it's own way. I took in a large breath of air before silently pushing open the door.

_**Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight  
**__Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away_

Standing there was a small brunette. She had her back turned from me, facing a window. In front of her was an easel with a large canvas on it. I blinked as she threw her arms out, head tilted back with her eyes closed as she nearly belted out the chorus. Paint flew to either side of the room from the brushed she held.

_**Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight  
**__Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away_  


I was nearly taken away by her face. Delicate lids ended in thick, dark lashes that covered eyes. A cute button nose and a stroke of yellowish paint on the pale forehead, some of it lightening strands of the baby hairs in front. Cheeks slightly flushed from the effort of the singing. I watched, intrigued, as she straightened again, her long hair a deep melted chocolate that ran to about mid-back, if not lower.

A smile slowly established on my face as I watched her move the brush smoothly over the canvas. I felt a small twitch in my chest to watch how delicate she held the brush, as if it were some sort of lifeline that could snap with the slightest sorrow. It was like it was the only thing that connected her to the painting as it cradled the forming picture in strokes.

Her hips where rocking slightly to the song, clumsily and not much in rhythm with the music. She went to humming the next part, not seeming to know the words. Sometimes her hums were off.

_**Movie stars  
Find the end of the rainbow, with a fortune to win  
It's so different from the world I'm living in  
Tired of T.V.  
I open the window and I gaze into the night  
But there's nothing there to see, no one in sight**_

I watched as she started to spin around, preparing for the chorus again. Then, when she was facing me, she stopped short, the foot that had been scooting her around swiped under the other leg, leaving a brief- and awkward- moment where she tried to restable herself. I wasn't thinking, all I was doing was moving.

"Kiyah- oof!" she squeaked, I had a hold of her hand before she fell flat on her back. She grunted when I tried to pull her up, and panic attacked every feeling in my body as her head snapped back dangerously.

_**Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight  
**__Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away_

"Are you alright?" I asked, she had nearly collided into my chest, and reached out her arms, grabbing my shirt to pull herself up and wrap her arms around my torso. The weight of her falling back with the momentum nearly brought me with her, I reached out quickly and gripped a table that was nearby. It creaked a bit from the pressure, but decided to not flip on me.

"Woah!" I breathed, looking down at the women. She still had her arms wrapped firmly around my stomach, her face digging into my shirt. I could feel her nose poking into my belly button. Her hot, smothered breaths ran through the fabric of my shirt and tickled my skin. I repeated my earlier question.

"Are you alright?" she took in a quick breath, mumbling something faintly, before letting go of me and maneuvering herself so that she wasn't pulling me down. I stood too, eyeing the deep red of her face.

"Uh… yeah, yeah I'm fine!" she glanced back at me, her eyes narrowing for a long moment. I winced when she pinched herself and let out a squeak. "I think…"

I nodded, looking over her. Her hair was more than a bit ruffled, her face flushed enough to rival a strawberry… mmmm… she smells like strawberries. I shook myself to rid the thoughts.

"Right, well…" then the canvas caught my eye. I turned my head to fully to look at it. The colors seemed soft, like a dream view of the picture, I could only make out faint shapes and blobs, but there was some slow detail in it. I could see that the brown blob had to be wood, because I saw texture and a knot. It looked like there was a bench there, and a figure-like thing sitting on it. "Wow…"

"It's.. It's really still just starting to show up, but it's suppose to be a man playing a piano," the women explained, pointing it out. Her fingertips were almost touching it, but not enough to smudge. "I got the inspiration when I heard that there was a new music teacher. He's really just blotches now, but hopefully I can make him look like the him."

I nodded, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. She bit her lip awkwardly, looking at my face again. "Sorry, but do I know you?" she asked. "You seem almost familiar."

I searched my memory for her. Why wouldn't I have remembered such a face? "Uh… I'm not sure. I'm Edward Cullen," I held out my hand for her to shake. It was how greetings went, so why was I doing it just to feel more of the pale skin? "The new music teacher,"

"Oh!" she explained, jumping around to look at the painting, rubbing her chin in playful seriousness before looking right at my face. "You'll be fun to paint, you're hair will make you look a bit like a Japanese anime character, though." She nodded, completely sure of herself. "But anime characters look cool, so don't sweat. Maybe you just moved here, were are you living?"

I explained where I lived, and her eyes lit up animatedly. "Aha! We must be neighbors, right that's were I saw you! Out the window, that's why you don' remember me." She took the hand with a wide smile. "Bella Swan, the art teacher."

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**Right, review! That's what spurred me on to write this chapter, review and hopefully I'll get inspiration to write the next!**

**Okay, so I tried to picture my elementary school from long ago, but I think I only got about half of the picture right, and I made some things better knowingly. **


	3. The Ring

A/N:

PHFT! Last chapter I was saying that I knew where this was going, but then I'm going, "But that just couldn't last as long as I was to try and take this, that would barely go ten chaps, and it's WAAAAYYYY too common…". So, I've already got a better place to take this, as explained in this chapter!

_**Is it just me, or has my writing style changed at all? Since the first chapter, I mean. I cringe at the bony condition that it is in. No thoughts, or real signs of foreshadow. I gotta re-write it sometime, but still the same script!**_

_**Hope you enjoy! I tried to get this out fast!**_

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The Art Teacher

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**Chapter 3  
**The Ring

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Bella.

Bella, Bella, Bella.

Beautiful. That's the translation from Italian. Beautiful.

I couldn't help but think that it was a bit of an insult, compared to her. She was more than that word could ever mean. Swan, her last name. Swans are elegant and quite the site.

She was a Beautiful Swan.

She was my Beautiful Swan.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and leaning against the table, my hands behind me supporting my weight. She couldn't be mine, we'd just met. What was I _thinking_? For all I know, she could be married and have a dozen kids! No, not a dozen, she seems too young, she couldn't be older than I, at 28. Still, the thought of her married hit my chest hard. Harder than it had ever been hit.

_How can attraction be so strong?_

I heard a snap in front of my face, the sound making my eyes automatically snap open. She was standing there, close enough so that I could smell the strawberry scent wafting into my senses. She was too close for me to trust myself. Yet at the same time, she was too far away. I wanted to be closer to her, and it scared the hell out of me.

Sure, I'd dated girls, but I wasn't always the talker in collage. I was usually found in the music room in my free time, composing and playing songs on all kinds of instruments. I'd probably been giving off a brooding aura, and somehow that seemed to draw some women in. Though, never the kind of women who I could love. Never the kind, sweet ones.

"Hey… hello! Edward? Mr. Cullen?" she kept snapping her fingers, that's when I noticed it. "Are you okay, there? You kinds took off into your own world on me!"

"Yes?" it sounded more like a question. My attention was on her moving left hand, the one that had snapped at me. What was that next to her pinky? Slight hope caught at my breath, it wasn't shining, please don't be what I think it is!

She noticed the look, she bit her lip nervously at some thought, then glanced down at the hand, which stilled.

It was a ring. Not a fancy engagement ring, but it was still a ring. Ring on her ring finger. On her wedding finger, so it's sometimes called. I looked at her face to see it contort lovingly, her right pointer finger came forth to caress the plastic thing.

"I got this when I was twelve." She laughed suddenly, the sound filled my aching heart to the point where it felt like it could burst, if it wasn't already failing on me… "I can't believe I almost told you about-"

"No," I whispered, looking up at her face. The beautiful face with the beautiful voice. "Tell me,"

She frowned for a second, as if considering the request, then she shrugged. "It was given to me when I was twelve, like I said, by a childhood friend of mine. He told me that he liked me. Now, he was ten, so that wasn't saying much, really, but I couldn't help but feel touched. Even if it was one of those twenty-five cent rings." I must have been feeling masochistic, asking her to tell me this… "He had to move that summer, and I got mad at him and made him take it back. I regretted that pretty fast, and my dad, who I was living with at the time, told me to go live with my mother. 'Not enough stuff to do here, I'm always gone,' he said.

"So, I lived with my mom in Florida right until I graduated from high school. I went to collage in Washington, living with my dad instead of the dorms. Well, I had just gotten home from a shift at the convenience store I was working part-time at, when there was a knock on my door." Wonder who that was. "And, there he was, ring in hand. He got down on one knee and said 'Bells, will you be my friend?' we had a good laugh about it after, and he said that he was just practicing…

"It wasn't a week later when he confessed that the ring was a promise ring, and he asked me, then, if someday I would marry him. He quickly backed it up with an 'after I finish collage and get a good job to support you'. I, still feeling happy about the fact that I found my best friend- or, rather, he found me- said yes."

"And?" I asked when she stopped. He face fell slightly. "Why aren't you happily married with a gurgling baby on your hip by now?"

I took a big breath, "He went to a mechanic collage at the other side of the continent, we did well with e-mailing and calling each other, but it only lasted about six months, then it was no longer those nightly calls, it started getting weekly, then monthly. We both were just so busy." She sighed, still feeling the ring. "Now, I'm pretty sure that he should be out of collage by now, I started working here right after, and it's been two years. I haven't heard from him since."

I was looking at her hand, the ring. How could I possibly be happy? So, she was single, but not in all sense of the way. Her hand started to tremble, and when it flew up to her face, I look up at her. She let out a gasp-like sob, looking at the ground now. Her hand was covering her mouth and her eyes were starting to overflow with tears. My hand itched to reach out and comfort her, but wouldn't that be weird? I mean, we'd only met about an hour or two ago. It would be… awkward for her.

Man, I was never any good around a crying girl, it was my absolute weakness.

She looked up at me, the tears starting to make darker lines down her face. She sniffed and quickly raised a hand to hide them and wipe them away. She hiccuped.

The air was tense, and my mind was screaming at me to brake it before she ran away. So, I did what my mind, body, and heart told me too.

I stretched out my arms, inviting her in. Into my comfort, into my life. Whatever I could do to make her happy. "I- I'm sorry, I-"

"Shhh," I soothed when she was settled in my arms. I silently thanked anyone who would care for the moment. She was so close, and I was drinking in her presence faster than I really should.

We were like that for a while, my chin rested on her head, my arms around her small form. I even stroked her hair, which I thought maybe had been too far, but she leaned into it. "Shhh."

Her cries were starting to stop, her breathing evening out and I knew that I wouldn't be able to hold her much longer. I felt like some kind of pervert, holding her like this while I could. I knew that she had loved him, the look she had when she explained all of this stuff that happened between them. She started mumbling how she hated that he left her into my chest.

Then, my indulgence was taken away. She pulled away, a weak smile on her face. Warmth left with her, leaving me slightly cold, more so in the heart. "I'm sorry, Edward." She mumbled. I wanted to tell her never to be sorry, that It had actually felt _right _to comfort her. But then, she was still in love with him. And, it was scary to feel so strongly about a person so soon. "I must have ruined your shirt-"

I shook my head. "No, I think you needed that." I said. She blinked at me oddly, making me realize what I'd said. "Release those thoughts, I mean. It isn't good to keep everything to yourself."

Bella just looked at me for a while. Her eyes blank, void of any emotion. Then, in a very clear, professional, voice she asked,

"Edward, can I paint you?"

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_GAH! Edward is a bit obsessive. This may turn out to be an interesting thing, here…_

_**Review, Review, Review! I love them, and it only takes a minute or so!**_

_**Fact:**_ So, Mrs. Bentley is actually based off a friend of mine :D


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